


The Benefits Of Friendship

by Sovvie118



Series: Askpolylosersclub Oneshots [5]
Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Barebacking, Blow Jobs, Crossdressing, F/M, M/M, Multi, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Shameless Smut, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-23
Updated: 2018-04-23
Packaged: 2019-04-27 00:38:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14413902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sovvie118/pseuds/Sovvie118
Summary: Bill's just had a hard day.((This is basically just porn. Shameless porn. Paired with the askpolylosersclub blog on Tumblr and part of the first fic contest. For therealtrashhole. Enjoy xx))





	The Benefits Of Friendship

Bill Denbrough is on edge.

He’s had a rough day at work and an even worse college lecture, followed by the news that his baseball practice that evening –the only stress relief he has-, has been cancelled. Honestly, he’s not sure how one person can seem to get sick so often; his coach has been off work more than he’s been there and they’re all starting to get antsy. Bill, in particular, focuses all of his pent up energy into the game. He’s first baseman but in a lot of the plays the coach gets them to switch it up and try different positions and Bill usually finds himself more eager than the rest of the team to do so, since he’s admittedly quite good at them all. He enjoys working up a sweat, pushing his muscles to the point where he can feel it the next day. It helps him to relax.

Driving his car home makes him feel even more pent up. There’s something wrong with the gear shift and it keeps getting stuck in place, which is definitely a serious problem for someone driving through New York at rush hour. He manages to make it work, just like he always has, but each time it happens he’s hit with a brief wave of panic before it comes unstuck again. He’s been meaning to mention it to Eddie or Mike; they’re both good with cars, but it keeps slipping his mind. Then there’s the worry that neither of them will be able to fix it and he’ll have to take it to a mechanic and spend money that he doesn’t really have. The thought that he’d have to borrow money from one of his partners or even worse, his parents, makes him feel a little bit nauseous.

He decides to turn on the radio to give him something to focus on but on almost every station there’s just static and the one good one is playing heavy metal, the kind where it sounds more like screaming than singing and he doesn’t really care for it, especially not right now. In the end, he turns it off. His car radio is just another thing that probably needs to be fixed.

When he finally gets home, there are no other cars in the driveway, meaning that Eddie and Mike, at least, are out. He reverses into his usual spot and switches off the engine, resting his head against his hands on the steering wheel for a couple of seconds and enjoying the sudden silence. He doesn’t have a headache but there’s a tightness in his throat which is common for him when he’s stressed and usually results in a worsened speech impediment.

He eventually works up the motivation to drag himself out of the car, taking his bags out of the trunk. One of them is a large gym bag, filled with a freshly cleaned uniform that he unknowingly didn’t need. The other, a backpack containing notebooks, sketchpads and an array of stationary. He throws the smaller bag over one shoulder and carries the other in his hand, dumping it beneath the rack of coats that hangs on the wall in the entryway to their home after he gets inside. He kicks off his shoes there, too, using his left foot to push them across the floor and into the line of other shoes. The ones just next to his are a pair of old, brown, lace-up leather boots that look scuffed and well-worn. He knows them well. Beverly barely ever wears anything else.

Speaking of, he meets Beverly in the kitchen with Stan. They’re both sitting at the table drinking coffee and looking at a glossy home decoration magazine. When he enters the room, Beverly looks up to greet him with a soft smile and beautiful blue eyes and he instantly feels some of the day’s weight lift from his shoulders. He goes over to sit between them when Beverly moves on her own seat to make room for him to share it and she takes the backpack from his shoulder, drops it to the floor with a thud and leans over to catch his lips in a sweet kiss. She ruffles his hair a little as she pulls back, rubbing at the back of his neck where he feels tense. Stan doesn’t offer him the same kind of affection but he does shift his chair closer across the kitchen floor.

“What do you think of this for the lounge?”

He presses his index finger against a picture of a set of chairs and a large couch, all in matching colours. Bill doesn’t really take much of it in. He rests his cheek against the dining table while Beverly rubs at his shoulders.

“I think that th-the couch we have is just fine.”

Stan is about to say something else but Beverly cuts him off.

“Why don’t you go and take a hot shower?” she says to Bill, leaning down and tilting her head to look him in the eyes. She’s kneading little circles into the back of his neck with her thumb and it feels good. He doesn’t really want to move but she’s right; he’s had a long day and washing it away under a steaming jet of water sounds like the best idea. He nods, lifts his head from the table and gives Beverly another quick peck on the lips. Almost instinctively, as if she knew exactly what he was going to do, she leans in for it, too. She tastes a little bit like sweet chapstick but he can’t quite figure out the flavour.

He looks at Stan, too, before he gets up. Stan’s not much of a kisser but, in this instance, it seems like Bill’s tired vulnerability works in his favour. He leans in to catch Bill’s lips, slower than Beverly did, almost lingering and it makes Bill want to chase him when he moves away but he doesn’t. He gets up from the table very reluctantly and picks up his bag again. He feels like dragging it up the stairs, if he’s honest but he gets an odd second wind when he hears music playing from Richie and Eddie’s room. Eddie’s car is gone, which means that it must just be Richie in there. Richie is like Bill’s partner in crime, really. They spend a lot of time together, they have a lot in common and Bill is pretty sure that a lot of the time he’s the only one who doesn’t find Richie irritating. Quite the opposite, actually. He decides that he’ll go and see him once he’s taken his shower. Richie always knows the right thing to say to take the worries of the day off your mind. He continues on to the next floor of the house.

It’s not until he’s abandoned his bag and clothes in his room and is under the hot spray of the shower that the stress of the day starts to finally leave him. He’s at home now. He’s safe. All of the people he loves are in this house, even if it’s not right now. When he steps out of the shower he doesn’t just feel clean, he feels much more at ease.

True to his word –or his thoughts in this case-, he dries off, pulls on an old pair of sweats which he thinks are actually Mike’s but he’s been wearing to bed since they got mixed in with his own laundry, and heads back to Richie and Eddie’s room. As he’s heading down the stairs to the first floor the faint sound of music reaches his ears again. It’s some kind of Indie-Rock band that he doesn’t know the name of, but it has a nice, slow beat that sets just the kind of relaxing tone that he needs. He doesn’t bother knocking on the door before turning the handle and pushing it open. It is just Richie, after all.

_It is just Richie, after all._

That thought seems especially relevant to the sight that meets him once he’s inside the room. He doesn’t really know whether to laugh or not, but ‘not’ seems to be the option that his brain chooses as he closes the door behind himself absent-mindedly, without looking away from the scene.

The room isn’t messy, like he expected it to be with Richie in here alone. In fact, it’s quite the opposite, as if Richie has spent the day in here, been bored and decided to tidy up to distract his mind for a while. That’s not the thing that really draws his attention, though. That, by far, is the sight of Richie himself. He’s lying on his stomach on the bed, flicking through what appears to be an old Archie and Jughead comic book, wearing one of his own hoodies on his top half, and what looks like, on his bottom half, a pair of Beverly’s panties and some thigh-high, striped, rainbow socks.

He takes a quick glance at Bill as he enters the room with a brief ‘Hey, Man’, before turning his attention back to the comic, as casually as if his ass cheeks and the naked backs of his thighs _weren’t_ currently on full display to the other man. His legs are bent at the knee and kicked up behind himself like some cliché of a schoolgirl at a sleepover and Bill watches him clenching and unclenching his toes like he’s just comfortably stretching.

“…H-hey?”

It comes out sounding like a question and Richie looks in Bill’s direction again, folding his arms against the bed where he’s leaning on his elbows. His glasses are resting low on his nose, as if he was looking over the top of them to read.

“Oh! Yeah,” Richie chuckles, as if he’s only just remembered what he’s wearing, himself. He gives a brief glance back at his own legs and crosses his ankles together in the air, “I wanted to see what it feels like to be a woman.”

Bill feels, once again, like he should laugh but maybe the fact that it’s Richie is what stops him from doing so. In a way, he gets it, and it isn’t really that strange at all.

“And?”

“Pretty nice,” Richie nods slowly. He forgets his comic book for now as he rolls onto his back and sticks his legs in the air, “I shaved my legs,” he says then, just as casually as everything else. Bill isn’t really shocked by it. He lets out a soft chuckle before going to perch himself on the end of the bed next to Richie.

“Touch it,” Richie says, sticking one of his legs out in Bill’s direction, and Bill does. Richie is usually a very hairy guy and it’s odd for his legs to feel so smooth. Usually that’s more of an Eddie or Stan thing. Even Beverly isn’t that self-conscious about constant grooming. He nods his approval, raises his eyebrows a little to show surprise and Richie seems pleased with himself.

“Th-that’s gonna be itchy when it grows back,” Bill warns him but Richie only shrugs.

“Maybe.” He rubs a hand back and forth on one of his own thighs briefly, “But right now it feels great.”

“Are those Bev’s clothes?”

“U-huh.”

“Does she know that yo-you’re wearing them?”

“Nope.”

Bill laughs. Richie laughs. There’s no tension in the room whatsoever and Bill’s glad that he came here. He crawls onto the bed when Richie goes back to his comic book, both now lying on their stomachs to read it together. He likes reading with Richie; the fact that he occasionally reads sections of it out loud and does voices for the characters all adds to the entertainment value, in Bill’s opinion.

He almost forgets about the underwear and socks completely as they lie together and the music plays on in the background. Really, it’s not that different from Richie’s regular odd fashion choices. He tells Richie all about his hellish day as they read, offloading all of his stresses and Richie nods along and makes affirmative noises, getting appropriately disgusted when Bill recounts the story of a middle-aged woman who refused to be served by him when he couldn’t say her name and told him that he was faking his stutter to get attention. He tells him about the baseball coach, too.

“And now we can’t have any more b-baseball practice until he comes back to work because for some reason they won’t let us do it ours-selves.”

“That’s dumb.”

“Yeah. I feel like I have all this st-stress and I can’t do anything about it, you know?”

“Can’t you just…jack one off? That usually gets rid of my stress.”

Richie chuckles when Bill gives him a look, and turns the page of the book.

“I have m-more stress than that.”

“So? Jack it more than once.”

“Why is that your only solution?”

“Uh…because it works?”

There’s a brief moment where the two look at each other for a couple of seconds: Bill, with a purposely sarcastic expression and Richie, with a purposely amused one. Richie abandons his reading material, then. He closes in on Bill, leaning into the small gap between them and rubbing their noses together. His glasses knock against Bill’s face and Bill laughs and takes them off, placing them in the centre fold of the pages of the comic book.

“Are you trying to k-kiss me?”

“No, Señor. I’m trying to entice you.”

“Well, try harder.”

Richie rolls on top of Bill with no warning, leaving him laughing but a little breathless. He can feel Richie’s bare thighs pressed against his own waist and he feels oddly aroused by it.

“Oh? Is th-this what we’re doing?” Bill reaches his hands up to hold Richie’s hips when he sits up in his lap but Richie doesn’t seem to mind it. They’re both getting a little riled up.

“I don’t know if I have enough energy for that,” Richie admits amusedly. He bounces in Bill’s lap a couple of times like he’s testing it, “Nah. That would be the worst sex ever. I’d be like ‘I’m too tired, man, you gotta take over’ after like, two minutes.”

“I could just take over now?” Bill suggests, hoping that it came out sounding serious. Because he was. That pent up feeling from when he was in the car is starting to creep back and he’s thought of the perfect way to expend his built-up energy. Richie’s weight in his lap feels quite good.

“What? You wanna fuck?”

“…K-kinda.”

Richie leans down to look into Bill’s eyes for a while but Bill doesn’t say anything more. He’s made up his mind about what he wants and it just happens to be sitting right in his lap. It’s almost blissful when Richie finally bends the extra little distance to close their lips together. Bill gets his mouth open right away and Richie does the same. It’s always this way with them. No point in wasting time getting to the good part. He gets his tongue into Richie’s mouth before Richie has a chance to do the same to him but he’s sure it would have been just as good either way. It’s sloppy and not very careful but that’s the way they both like it.

“Good job I took a shower,” Richie mumbles into Bill’s mouth in between kisses.

Bill doesn’t respond. He’s too busy trying to get Richie’s hips closer to his own. It’s when they meet that he realises that he’s getting hard already. Richie must notice it, too; he starts to rock his hips quite hard down into Bill’s, watching his expression as his head falls back.

“Wow. You got yourself really riled up today, huh?”

Bill only grasps at Richie’s waist harder, finding the flimsy material of the panties that he’s wearing and twisting his fingers into it a little so he can use it to pull him closer. Richie seems more amused by this than he’s been in a while. He obliges all of Bill’s attempts, rutting against him and causing the material of Bill’s sweatpants to drag against his heated flesh; Bill is super glad that he doesn’t wear underwear to bed.

Richie doesn’t really look shocked when Bill flips their positions. He gets right between Richie’s thighs, hoisting them up against his waist as he leans in to place hot, open-mouthed kisses across all of his exposed skin. He unzips Richie’s hooded sweatshirt as he goes, following the trail of it with his lips. When he reaches Richie’s navel, he can’t resist parting his lips to bite down against his flat stomach. Richie responds with a sound that’s half a gasp and half a chuckle.

“You know, I charge extra for kinky stuff like that.”

Bill raises his eyes to Richie’s face and sure enough, he’s looking right back down at him. He shoots him a grin which is reciprocated, running his tongue along the teeth marks now temporarily punched into Richie’s skin. They both know exactly where Bill is heading and sure enough, it isn’t long before the panties are pulled aside and Richie’s dick is in his mouth. He’s not even entirely sure himself, why he enjoys doing this. There’s just something about the feeling of hot, hard flesh against his tongue that gives him pleasure, too.

He hears the soft thud of the back of Richie’s head hitting the comforter, followed by him groaning low in his throat, and takes him deeper into his mouth. When Richie’s hips rise from the bed he doesn’t stop him from doing it. He knows from experience that he can take it all. The feeling of it touching the back of his throat doesn’t make him want to gag; he’s perfected the art of breathing carefully through his nose. After bobbing his head along the whole length of it a few more times he slowly pulls off, using his hand instead.

Richie is appropriately subdued by it; he looks very content lying spread out on the bed and even when Bill dips in again to bite at the insides of his thighs he doesn’t seem uncomfortable with it and simply reaches down to thread his long fingers into Bill’s hair. Bill gets more comfortable against the bed. Having someone’s hand in his hair feels nice and he leans back in to continue his work.

Bill considers himself to be a sort of Jack-of-all-trades who’s kind of good at everything and maybe that’s why he’s so skilled at this. Either way, there’s no doubt in this house that he gives the best head. And he’s given it to everyone in the house. He likes that everyone’s reactions to it are different, enjoys the feeling of power that it gives him over them, even while he’s down on his knees and they’re standing. There’s a definite mutual trust in doing something like this.

Eddie is usually the most receptive to it. Bill remembers the first time he got on his knees in front of Eddie like it was yesterday. They were home alone, both a little ‘highly strung’ and the evening began with Eddie pinned, scrambling against one of the kitchen counters while Bill’s head bobbed between his thighs. He remembers feeling Eddie’s hands grasping at his shoulders and the back of his neck, how he didn’t know where to put them but needed somewhere, some _thing_ to hold onto. The sound of Eddie repeating his name like a mantra is burned deep into his memory.

Mike is definitely the most respectful. He treats it like a gift, gently holding Bill’s hair back from his face and breathing soft praises to him, stroking the sides of his face and his jaw to help him to feel more comfortable. He never lets him get down on his knees on a hard floor. Mike is also the most likely out of all, to return the favour.

The one time he did it to Ben it wasn’t at all what he expected. Beverly was there too and she’d sat, comfortingly, behind him, giving him her hand to hold onto in case he’d felt too weird about it to touch Bill. But Bill remembers how that first contact, the feeling of Ben’s fingers sliding into his hair had sent sparks through him and how, once it was over, Ben took Bill’s face in his own hands to kiss him and breathed appreciation into his open mouth.

Getting into such a vulnerable position in front of Stan is a different matter. Bill remembers how often the act has come hand-in-hand with the sensation of a collar biting into his skin, remembers perfectly the feeling of expensive dress trousers stretched under his palms and fingertips, knows how the correct response to ‘Do you like that?’ is always ‘Yes, Sir’.

Although it’s completely different, he’s not one to pass up on the opportunity to get between Bev’s thighs, either. She’s always so appreciative, like she doesn’t think she deserves it or thinks she owes him something in return and it only makes Bill want to please her more. He thinks that there’s always something incredibly satisfying about the sounds of a woman’s voice when you’re causing her pleasure.

Out of them all, Richie is probably the one who he offers it to the most. Maybe it’s because he won’t ever turn it down or maybe it’s just because they have this fun connection that’s almost a friends-with-benefits kind of situation, even though they’re actually a couple. Either way, Bill finds himself on his knees in front of Richie more than anyone else.

As he continues to ‘work his magic’ –as Richie always calls it-, he starts to get very riled up himself. The act itself, feeling something warm, hard and throbbing against your tongue is enough to work anyone into that state in and of itself but Richie’s bare –and incredibly smooth- thighs keep brushing his shoulders, the pink and blue lace of the panties keeps popping into his line of sight and it’s driving him insane. Richie’s always been sexy in a weird, grungy, gravelly voice kind of way but right now, he’s sexy in a Bill-kind-of-wants-to-fuck-him-hard-enough-to-make-him-cry kind of way and it’s very confusing. Not that he’s never been inside Richie before.

He pulls off Richie’s dick after a good few minutes of deep-throating, watching it drop, wet with saliva, against his pale stomach. One of Richie’s hands comes down to grab at himself and he gives it a few lazy strokes with a breathy ‘oh, fuck’. Bill finds it tough to take his eyes off it, but he drags himself away and crawls up the length of Richie’s body to meet his face again. He can still see Richie’s arm moving between them.

“ _Don’t_ get yourself off.”  

“I’m not. I’m not even close.”

“I know you well enough to know th-that’s a lie.”

“Okay, I’ll stop.”

“Your hand is still moving!”

They both laugh as Bill struggles to grab at both of Richie’s hands, although he eventually manages to get them pinned against the bed beside him. The gap between their faces is so small that the tips of their noses are touching.  

“You gonna fuck me, Big Bill?”

Bill’s mouth goes a little dry and he feels a shock of arousal through his system. He continues to stare into Richie’s eyes but he’s unable to reply. Richie clearly senses it.

“I want you to fuck me,” he says, more quietly this time, wrenching one of his hands out of Bill’s grip to slide it down between them so he can grab at the front of Bill’s sweats between his legs. Bill tries not to let it show, but he’s insanely hard and it feels so good that he wants nothing more than to grind down into Richie’s palm until he comes. His hips twitch a little in that direction and Richie gives him a firm squeeze through his pants. He tries not to moan but it doesn’t work.

“Do you wanna fuck me?”

Richie’s doing that thing where he makes his voice go even more low and gravelly, now; the one that makes Bill –and certainly other members of the group- feel a little weak in the knees. He can only nod in response as he pushes his body against Richie’s open palm. If he lets this manipulation go any further, he’s going to be the one getting fucked -which is not what he intended at all- so he pulls Richie’s hand away from his crotch and moves off him.

“G-get onto your hands and knees,” he orders, as firmly as he can, and watches Richie’s amused expression as he obliges the request. Richie’s always the one to say no to nothing, to go along with any scenario that’s suggested to him. He doesn’t say anything more, just waits for Bill’s next move.

The sight from behind Richie, when Bill moves to kneel behind him, is definitely something worth admiring. The panties are made of some kind of thin, mesh-like material that’s almost see-through and they’re far too small for him. They aren’t leaving anything to the imagination at all. Somehow, seeing something stretched tight over Richie’s ass cheeks does make them look more inviting, Bill has to admit. The pale expanse of thigh visible above the brightly-coloured socks is working for him, too.

He leans in to bite at Richie’s flesh, somewhere between his ass and the back of one of his thighs, ignoring Richie’s ‘Oh, this is getting interesting’, before he gets his fingers hooked into the material on either side to inch it down. Despite all of the other things he does with his mouth, Bill’s not really much into rimming. That’s more Richie’s thing. Not that he doesn’t enjoy the reactions it gets from _certain_ people; he just doesn’t think he’s as good at it. Doing it _to_ Richie, who everyone knows has some kind of God-given gift for it, is a little bit intimidating.

When Bill first gets hold of the backs of Richie’s thighs to pull his ass cheeks apart –maybe this is why he doesn’t enjoy it as much; he’s used to being on the receiving end of being exposed like this- he notices that it’s a lot more…hairless, than usual.

“…So, you d-didn’t just shave your legs, huh?”

He feels Richie shaking under his hands as he chuckles and Bill can’t help but laugh, too.

“Nope. Does it look good? I couldn’t really see what I was doing.”

“It looks…bare?”

“Good. That’s what I was going for. Feel free to continue.”

“Okay. Th-thanks.”

Bill chuckles briefly again as he moves in to place the lightest lick he can, with the very tip of his tongue. Richie doesn’t seem impressed.

“What, are you afraid of assholes or something?”

“I’m just-”

“So it’s okay to have your dick in one but not your tongue?”

_“Rich-”_

Bill is laughing again, now.

“Do you treat Stan like this? No wonder he’s always so uptight.”

Bill gets his mouth on him again properly before he can keep talking and it cuts Richie off half way through what sounded like ‘If this is gonna be the whole experience then you can just-’. It quickly turns into a curse word and Bill has to hold Richie’s hips still when he starts pushing back.

This is the first time he’s ever done it to Richie. His only other two experiences having his tongue up someone’s ass are with Stan and Eddie. Eddie, he thinks, would probably have pretended to like it even if it wasn’t good and Stan, well, Stan more or less does it to himself, since he dictates every single move to the smallest detail.

Although he’s worrying about it not being up to Richie’s standards, he continues to push through it. He knows how to use his tongue, at least in other circumstances and clearly that’s all there really is to it because it seems to be working just fine. Richie is pleasantly vocal, more heavy breaths and soft curses and whispering the beginnings of sentences that he can’t seem to finish than his usual talkative approach.

“Is it good?” Bill asks casually, genuinely curious as he pulls away to circle the tip of one of his fingers around the area that’s now wet with his own saliva. He resists the urge to push it in. He’s not sure they’re quite there yet.

“ _So fucking good_ ,” Richie breathes, arching his back and pressing against Bill’s finger. The long curve of Richie’s back makes Bill more impatient and he moves to find a bottle of lube in one of the nightstands –he knows exactly where they keep it-, popping the cap to cover his own fingers rather too liberally. He drops the bottle on the bed beside one of his own knees as he slowly presses his middle finger into Richie.

He listens to Richie’s gasps and ‘go slow’s as he rests a palm against the base of his back. Richie tenses up a couple of times; he’s very willing to be on the bottom when it’s offered but in reality, he’s not as used to it as Stan, Eddie or even Bill himself. Although he never complains. It’s generally a guessing game to figure out when he’s uncomfortable and when you need to stop and let him recover.

Loosening him up usually isn’t easy. He’s not tense, not by a long shot, but honestly out of everyone Bill has ever put his fingers or his dick into, Richie is probably the tightest. It’s a real contradiction to his personality. Sometimes Bill wonders if maybe it’s because Richie is just too good at pretending and that most of the time he really isn’t relaxed at all.

“Y-you okay?” he asks gently, once his finger can’t go any further inside. Richie gives him a short nod but he doesn’t say anything.

Bill moves his finger slowly despite Richie’s obvious approval for more. He really doesn’t want to hurt him, even if Richie himself doesn’t seem to mind it. It’s worrying him a little that Richie is so unusually quiet but after a couple of minutes of Bill gently pushing the digit as deep as it will go, he feels it start to get easier, sees the tell-tale arch of Richie’s back.

He adds another, just as slowly and carefully as the first. He used a lot of lube to begin with but he adds more, wiping it away from the inside of one of Richie’s thighs with his free hand when it runs down and threatens to drip onto the bed sheets. There’s an obvious hitch in Richie’s breath when he gets both fingers pressed right into him and he holds them there, rubbing against the inside of his body to try and ease some of the tension.

“ _Ohh, fuck, that feels good_ ,” Richie groans, cutting through the silence. It makes Bill feel a lot better and the tension that had settled over the air in the room dissipates. A quiet Richie is definitely not something that anyone ever really wants, as much as they joke about it.

It seems like a good time to start up some back-and-forth dirty talk but really, that’s not Bill’s forte. It doesn’t matter how many times the others tell him that his stutter is sexy, he’s never going to see it as anything other than embarrassing. When he’s on the bottom, it’s a different story; stuttering adds to the whole illusion but on the whole, Bill is not a talker during sex.

Richie, on the other hand, is the KING of dirty talk and most of the time it’s difficult to actually get him to shut up. Anyone who’s ever been on the receiving end of Richie’s infamous filthy mouth while getting dicked down can attest to that. It’s even been known to subdue Stan, on occasion. Although the worst is when Eddie –the loudest and the one with no filter during sex- and Richie –the most talkative- are together. It’s certainly difficult to listen to when you’re trying to sleep.

Now that Richie seems to have relaxed somewhat, Bill starts to work him open, first with just the two fingers but then with three. It’s a slow process; Bill is definitely one of the gentler lovers in the group. He knows that sometimes he’s probably over-prepared but he’d rather that than to risk hurting somebody. It’s a fact that he knows irritates Stan, in particular.

When he pulls his fingers out, he does that slowly, too, ignoring the way Richie’s responding soft groan makes his dick twitch in his sweats. He’s been trying to block it out, resisting the urge to touch himself even slightly. He wants this to last for as long as possible and he is, admittedly, a bit trigger happy.

They decide to go without a condom. They’ve done it bare before and honestly, Bill isn’t sure he knows where the nearest ones are and Richie isn’t being very helpful about it.

“Just put it in. I’m ready.”

“Can you j-j-just wait for five seconds while I-”

“We don’t need a condom! I don’t care about having your jizz in me.”

“Well, are you comfortable?”

“Yeah!”

Bill ignores Richie as he grabs for one of the pillows near the head of the bed and pushes it under him. Richie looks amused but he takes it anyway and rests against it, tucking his arms beneath it.

“What’s this about? Do I need something to bite down on?”

“I just wuh-want you to be comfortable.”

“Well, thanks. Now put your dick in me.”

Bill laughs softly. He tugs the waistband of his own sweats down and gets ready to line up behind him when he’s stopped by Richie.

“Wait. Can I take these off, first?”

Richie is reaching back to tug at the panties, shifting his legs to try and get them off but Bill stops him and moves his hand away.

“No.”

He sees the intrigued look in Richie’s eyes as he briefly looks back at him, before he gives a quick shrug and turns back to his pillow. Bill pulls the flimsy material lower, leaves it stretched around Richie’s parted thighs. He gets a sudden, weird urge to slap him, to leave a red handprint on him somewhere but he doesn’t do it. He doesn’t know if he can pull something like that off.

As much as he joked about the pillow, Richie clings tightly to it when Bill starts to push into him. His arms wrap right around it, hands digging deep into the soft fabric. He still doesn’t complain or make a sound.

Bill does this just as carefully as everything else, giving it to Richie basically one inch at a time and giving him breaks in between where he rubs at his hips and the small of his back. It’s just as much to distract himself as it is to try and soothe Richie. He feels suddenly very lucky that he has a lot of self-restraint.

When he’s finally all the way in, it’s another slow process and in truth, Bill’s starting to wonder whether it might be more for his own benefit rather than Richie’s. He doesn’t want to cause Richie any discomfort, sure, but Richie seems to be handling it just fine. Perhaps a lot of the time Bill is worrying _too_ much over nothing.

He’s obviously doing it, now, since almost right away Richie starts to push back against him. It slowly turns into a steady rock, with Richie doing most, if not all, of the work. Bill feels a little bit powerless but in the moment he doesn’t really care. He runs his hands up and down Richie’s back, reaching underneath the hoodie that he’s still wearing, where his skin feels incredibly hot and slightly damp already.

“ _Fuck_ -” Richie groans out. He pushes himself to his hands and knees again so he can rock himself back against Bill more easily. It’s still slow, but Bill sees one of Richie’s hands go underneath himself and between his thighs, watches the way his head drops forward, and he knows it must feel pretty good. To be honest, he’s happy for Richie to work himself closer to the edge like that if it means he’ll come first.

When Bill finally starts to put in the work, too, and it’s hard enough for the soft sound of skin hitting skin, it all feels worth it. Richie is still on his hands and knees but he lets Bill take control, breathing out curse words every other time their bodies meet. Bill rests his hands against Richie’s hips, grazing his nails up and down his sides as he knows he likes and enjoying the soft moan it pulls from him. It starts getting really good, then, right before they’re rudely interrupted by Beverly entering the room.

When she first sees them on the bed, she lets out a sound that’s almost the beginning of a shrill laugh but she immediately slaps her hand to her mouth to silence it. Thankfully, she closes the door behind herself to avoid anyone else walking past and witnessing it, too, although Bill wishes that she’d done it with herself on the other side of it. He stopped as soon as he saw her, pulling bed sheets against himself and Richie in an attempt to cover them both.

Richie has other ideas. He gives Bev a quick glance and an amused little ‘woops’ before turning his head to look back at Bill impatiently. Beverly is still standing by the door with her palm against her lips and although _she_ doesn’t really look embarrassed, Bill definitely is and he holds Richie’s hips to prevent him from pressing back.

“Bill, c’mon, it was just getting good. What are you doing?”

_“B-Beverly’s here!”_

Richie is clearly about to respond but the woman in question gets there first. She approaches the side of the bed, prompting Bill to cover more of their bodies with the sheets.

“I just came to borrow one of your old shirts, Rich. I’m gonna cut my hair and-”

_“Beverly, g-get out!”_

“Would you calm down?! Jeez, Bill. I’ve seen you naked before. We’ve slept together more times than I can count!” She throws back, walking right past them to look through one of the dressers. Richie sighs and lowers the top half of his body against the pillow.

“…Are you gonna fuck me, or should I just ask Bev to do it?”

Beverly giggles and snorts a little from over at the dresser. Before Bill can decide how –or if- he’s going to reply, she comes back to them. She’s holding one of Richie’s old band t-shirts but she places it on the edge of the bed as she sits down.

“Hey, it’s not a big deal,” she says to Bill, very softly, in the way that she always does when she’s comforting someone in the way that only a woman really can. He’s still covering himself and Richie, holding the sheets against his chest but his grip loosens a little.

“I just feel a little…awkward…”

“Sure! I mean, I would, too, at first! But we’re all together in this relationship and we should be able to be vulnerable and show-”

“Okay, Bev, I know where you’re going with this but if one of you doesn’t fuck me right this second, I’m gonna go and get someone who will,” Richie butts in and both Beverly and Bill chuckle. The tension breaks.

Beverly looks as if she’s about to leave and let them get on with it, but then her face changes and she climbs onto the bed, untucking the hem of her dress from under her knees as she crawls over to Bill. He looks nervous, like he’s about to lean away, until she moves forward to kiss him and holds his face between her delicate hands. Richie watches them over his shoulder.

They kiss for a couple of minutes, slow and soft and Bill feels his anxiety melting away into nothing. He slowly lowers the sheets away from his body and Beverly gently tugs at it until it’s off both of them. She pulls away from Bill’s lips to look at where he connects with Richie and it’s then that she notices the panties and the socks.

“ _Oh my god_ are those my clothes?!”

Richie chuckles and wiggles his ass, causing Bill to hiss in a breath and quickly hold him still, but rather than seeming to be confused or taken aback by it, Beverly only reaches down to tug at one of the socks and snaps the elastic against Richie’s thigh. She lets out a soft chuckle before leaning in to kiss Bill again. This time, one of her hands rests on the small of Richie’s back, like she’s encouraging him to move. They must have some sort of unspoken communication because he does just that, rolling his hips back against Bill’s in a slow rhythm.

Bill still feels the slightest bit uncomfortable about the whole situation but it gradually leaves him as they continue. He slides his fingers into Beverly’s hair, gently pulling out the tie so that it falls in thick, red tresses down to her waist and she hums contentedly into his mouth and leans against his body. With her there, too, when he starts to move against Richie again it’s a lot more languid, the way it might be if he was inside her instead. None of them are ever rough with Beverly.

It does start to get a little more intense again all the same. Beverly only encourages it, gripping at Bill’s waist, grazing her nails across Richie’s bare thighs and tugging at the panties. She almost seems to be enjoying it more than Richie and Bill are themselves. After a short while, Bill starts to actually feel himself getting close, particularly when Beverly starts running her fingertips up and down his back and repeatedly kissing at his neck with soft lips, but once again they’re interrupted.

This time, Stan is the one to walk into the room. He’s clearly come upstairs from his own room because he’s dressed a little more casually than if he’d been to work; pale grey chinos and a short-sleeved blue shirt that Bill recognises as one of his favourites –and one of the most expensive-. He comes in as if he expected to see what’s currently in front of him, carefully pushing the door back into its frame until it clicks.

Again, Bill feels the urge to cover himself and he almost grabs for the bedsheets again where they’re still bunched near his knee but Beverly stops him. At least from this angle, her own body is shielding him from Stan’s gaze.

Richie seems to be enjoying the intrusions, if anything. He lifts his head to look in Stan’s direction, breathing out a short titter with a casual ‘Hey, Stan’.

Stan leans against the closed door, looks as though he’s observing the scene before deciding what to do with it. Beverly seems a little smug where she’s resting against Bill’s shoulder with her lips almost touching his neck.

“W…w-why do people keep coming in?” Bill sighs, breath a little short. Beverly snickers before owning up to the intrusion.

“I texted him.”

“W-what?”

“I texted him,” she repeats, nuzzling at Bill’s neck, “While I was looking in the dresser.”

At this point, Bill is too tired to retaliate or make any sort of comment at all. He watches over Bev’s shoulder as Stan approaches them. He’s clearly about to climb onto the bed and join them, just like Beverly did and Bill doesn’t stop him when he does. He observes the way that Stan walks his fingers along the length of Richie’s spine from the back of his neck, sees Richie arch his body in response to it and hears him groan. Although Stan’s real attention is clearly on Bill, as he moves to the other side of him, opposite to where Beverly is. Richie starts to push back again impatiently and Bill reaches for his hips, maybe to halt him but Bev grabs one of his wrists and Stan takes the other. It all feels a little bit planned.

“You don’t have to stop just because we’re here,” Stan says matter-of-factly. The sound of his voice does things to Bill that he really wishes it wouldn’t, but it’s always that way with them. Stan has so much control over him that it’s sometimes scary. It’s like he doesn’t even have to try. Beverly kisses Bill again when he opens his mouth to speak and he doesn’t have the energy to stop this anymore, especially not when he starts to rock into Richie again and Stan’s lips brush his ear with a soft ‘Good boy’ and at the same time, Richie moans out a low _‘Yeah’_. In all honesty, he could’ve lost it right at that second.

He half-expects Stan and Beverly to start undressing and join in, especially with how much they both seem to be touching him _and_ Richie, but they don’t. In a way, he feels that’s better. He’s always had an odd fascination with being watched; it turns him on more than most other things. He was dubious when Beverly first walked in but now it feels ten times more intense than it did when it was just him and Richie. The air in the room feels stiflingly hot; he can feel rivulets of sweat running out of his hair at the back of his neck and down between his shoulders.

When his hip movements get faster and Richie seems to slide further into the bed, knees slipping further apart and the arch of his back deepening, Bill feels Stan’s fingers in the back of his hair. He’s worried that he’s going to yank his head back any second but he doesn’t, and the anticipation sets his nerves on fire. Beverly has her hands on both of them, one at the bottom of Richie’s back, frequently sliding down around his bare thigh and the other against Bill’s waist, gripping him in silent encouragement with each thrust.

A moan slips out of him with a sharp tug on his hair from Stan, and Richie reciprocates the sound, rocking back against him to give the harsh, careless rhythm that they both usually like. Richie is _particularly_ fond of rough sex and even with two people watching them, he’s asking for it harder and groaning Bill’s name. When Beverly slaps at his thigh hard enough to leave a red mark, like Bill wanted to earlier, he hisses out the word ‘yes’ and starts slamming his hips back harder against Bill’s.

It doesn’t take long after that. Stan and Beverly release Bill’s hands so he can get them on Richie and use them for leverage; the sound of skin hitting skin and heavy breathing fills the room and if it weren’t for the warm bodies either side of him, Bill’s sure he would forget altogether that there were two other people in the room. It feels insanely good, to just let go like this, even while he’s being watched.

Usually, as a top, he’d be solely focused on his partner and their pleasure but with others in the room it feels different. He feels quite lost in the intensity of it all, especially with Beverly’s lips frequently on the side of his face and his jaw and the fact that he can feel Stan’s eyes on him, observing his every movement. He can feel himself nearing the edge and the thought that Stan might this time see it but not be involved directly is turning him on all the more.

“Are you close?” Stan asks him, completely out of the blue and he can only nod his response. Anything he said now would just be a jumble of half-words and stuttered letters.

He can feel the familiar heat low in his abdomen, burning in the best way and Richie doesn’t seem to care how hard he pounds into him in an attempt to chase his climax. He seems to be encouraging it, in fact; he reaches back to grip tightly at one of Bill’s hands where it’s on his hip with a low _‘Ah, fuck’_. When Bill’s name leaves his lips soon after that in a string of about five times in succession, it’s the last straw and he comes hard inside him, encouraged by one of Stan’s hands pressing firmly into the small of his back. Richie groans in response to Bill’s hips pressing against him so tight, and follows him shortly after, swearing again when he sees the mess he’s made on the bedsheets.

Beverly is the most affectionate of them all and she rubs at one of Bill’s arms and nuzzles the side of his face with a soft chuckle, not seeming to mind in the slightest that he’s quite sweaty. Stan doesn’t come close in that way but even through his post-orgasm haze Bill is sure that he hears another ‘Good boy’ from him and feels light fingertips against the back of his neck where it’s sensitive.

They move onto Richie, next, Beverly actually lying on the bed beside him to get face-to-face as she chuckles and catches his lips. They get caught in a slow kiss as Bill watches them, sees tongues between them and the way Richie lazily pulls at Beverly’s lips with his teeth, before Beverly breaks it and pats Richie on the back.

“Was that good?” she chuckles, and it becomes a full-on laugh when he gives her a thumbs up instead of speaking.

Stan is the one to manoeuvre Richie back onto his hands and knees so that Bill can pull out more easily and without hurting him, although he complains all the same.

“Okay, I know I said that I didn’t mind having your jizz in me but this feels fucking gross.”

Bill chuckles breathily as he pats the bottom of Richie’s back a couple of times and strokes at it soothingly. After sex, he always feels extra fond and affectionate towards his partner and this is no different. He leans over Richie’s back to place a kiss between his shoulder blades.

“Okay h-hold still. Just let me go and get something to clean up.”

Bill moves to start climbing off the bed. He’s intending on going to get one of the many packs of wet wipes that he knows Eddie keeps stashed all over their room for easy access, but Stan stops him in his tracks. Beverly is sitting next to Richie with her fingers in his hair, brushing them through it gently.

“Wait. We can make this more interesting,” Stan says calmly and Bill feels a little bit worried. Usually when Stan says something like that, it’s going to be either humiliating or painful for someone involved and Bill is sure that almost ninety percent of the time it’s going to be him.

“I don’t know what you guys are doing back there but there’s sperm slowly leaking out of my gaping asshole so can we just move things along?”

All eyes turn to Richie and they all laugh. Even Stan chuckles fondly, although Bill puts that down to the general energy in the room that’s present between the four of them, now. They’ve all been involved sexually with more than one person at a time, now; it’s becoming second nature to them, but it still has the same strange feeling every time. When all seven of them were together at once, it was _electric_.

“I dare you to lick it off,” Stan says, then, looking Bill directly in the eye, and Bill doesn’t know why he wasn’t expecting him to say _that_ , but he wasn’t. Stan often takes him by surprise by acting a lot more like…well…like _Richie_ , than they think he’s going to.

“…M-my own…stuff?”

Beverly and Richie both start choking with laughter at that. Richie in particular is howling.

“Stuff? What are you? Twelve?” Stan says amusedly, both eyebrows raised, “Are you scared? Do it. I _dare_ you.”

Bill takes offense to that. It’s common knowledge in the group that he’s the one who isn’t scared of anything. Also common knowledge: Bill never refuses a dare.

“You dare me?” Bill shoots back, suddenly confident. It’s almost like ‘dare’ is a trigger word for him, which trips some sort of hidden wire in his brain and turns off his ability to be afraid or nervous, or certainly, feel any sort of shame. Stan just shrugs his shoulders and nods, and it isn’t long after that, that Bill is behind Richie with his tongue on his asshole for the second time that evening. It tastes a little bit odd. He’s used to having other people’s ejaculate in his mouth but never his own and the thought of it is definitely off-putting. Although he’d be lying if he said he’d never been curious and tried it out before, just to see what it’s like. He never thought he’d be doing it again voluntarily.

Richie seems quite content to lie there on his stomach and let Bill basically clean him out with his tongue. He shudders through it, humming contentedly and hissing a little when it gets too sensitive. Stan pulls the panties back onto him when Bill is finished, as if he can’t stand for something to be left untidy or unnatural like that and Richie barely moves to help him.

Bill does as he promised, though, holding it in his mouth and then showing his tongue to Stan as proof. Stan looks distinctly impressed, like he didn’t think he’d actually go through with it, although Bill is certainly more shocked by the fact that he leans in to kiss him, takes the stuff into his own mouth using his tongue, and swallows it.

Beverly watches them with a vaguely horrified expression during the entire scene. They all know by now that she isn’t really into ‘butt stuff’, as she so affectionately calls it, and she certainly isn’t up for a lot of the questionable activities that the rest of them get up to. _Stan and Richie in particular_. She gives a little shake of her head, glances at Richie as if she’s not including him in her evaluation of it, and sighs.

_“Men.”_

Upon hearing her evaluation, Stan seems a little amused. A slow smile appears on his face before he moves past Bill to take Beverly into his arms and kisses her, too. She doesn’t move away from him, although when they break apart she wipes at her lips with the back of her hand and fake-grimaces and presses him back when he tries to kiss her again. It results in a pretty cute sort of play-fight, which Bill watches fondly as he tucks himself back into his sweats and lies comfortably against Richie’s back.

They roll around for a while, against the bed, right in front of Richie and Bill. Beverly giggles and kicks her feet at him and her dress rides up almost to her waist. She’s wearing a similar pair of panties to the ones Richie is currently wearing and it makes Bill want to laugh out loud but he’s too comfortably tired to make any sort of sound. Stan grabs for her ankles and gets his fingers onto her waist to tickle her and it’s all very sweet until it isn’t. There’s a brief moment where one of Stan’s hands creeps up beneath her dress and onto her thigh, her laughter calms down to heavy breaths and they seem to stare into each other’s eyes for a while.

A few seconds later, Bev starts laughing again, squirms out of his grip and clambers off the bed and onto the floor. She quickly stands, bare feet padding across the wooden floor as she races out of the room and to Bill’s wonder, Stan gets off the bed and runs after her without a second thought. He can hear Beverly shrieking and laughing hysterically in the hallway before it fades out.

He ignores the still-open door, wondering briefly how Stan could possibly forget to close it, before nuzzling himself into Richie’s hair. Richie must have fallen asleep while Stan and Beverly were messing around and he’s now softly snoring against the pillow. Bill manages to work up enough energy by himself to tidy some things up. He gets some wet wipes from the nightstand to clean Richie –and the sheets beneath him- properly, moves the comic book and Richie’s glasses to another place out of the way and manages to somehow shift Richie’s body weight to move him so he’s almost in bed, all without waking him up. He drags the sheets over them both and the moment his head hits the pillow is the best thing he’s ever felt.

When Eddie comes home later on and enters his bedroom, Bill and Richie are both fast asleep. Richie is buried into his hoodie, a mass of curly, black hair and Bill is tucked neatly underneath one of Richie’s arms. Eddie doesn’t really question it and once he’s showered and changed into pyjamas himself he gets in beside Bill, snuggling against his back quite comfortably. The next morning when Bill wakes up sandwiched between Richie and Eddie he feels adequately content and stress-free.

At about eleven A.M when he gets back into his crappy little car to do it all over again, the gear shift gets stuck in place, and when he pulls out of their driveway he feels the beginnings of stress starting to latch onto him. His throat gets a little tight. He switches on the radio.

And he recognises it instantly, the same song that was playing through the door of Richie and Eddie’s room last night. The song that he doesn’t know the name of, or the artist, or the words but that he knows well enough because it’s one of _Richie’s_ songs.

He turns it up as loud as it will go as he drives down the road that leads off their street, briefly looks at the expensive watch on his wrist, the one that Stan bought him for his last birthday and runs his tongue over his lips, tasting the lingering sweet flavour of Beverly’s chapstick from where she kissed him on his way out of the front door.

And he decides that this might not be such a bad day after all.


End file.
